


a close call

by orphan_account



Series: Two Anxious Wrecks and the Search for a Home [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Other, Protectiveness, Unresolved Romantic Tension, hell yeah i get to use THAT tag now, retail hell, we're spending more time in a wet alley whoopdiedooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15520173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Your evening had been hell, first chased out of your own apartment, then scared to pieces by a well-meaning but shy android. Then morning came, another brief emotional roller coaster, where said android spent a good chunk of time sniffling into your sweater, and hey, maybe you did have a bit of a crush, but who's could blame you. Now, one more shift at the ever-charming 24-Mart, is all that stands between you and creeping back into your apartment, hoping to reclaim some of your stuff. You're anxious as all get out, not sure how you're going to make it down the street in the first place. Some help, however, seems to have been keeping close by.





	a close call

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I didn't update in a month and a half. Sorry, take this long installment as an apology? That sweet summertime sadness, work, and preparing for college really kicked my ass, so it took me a while to get this one out! Note that this is a part 1/?, another chapter should be coming shortly, it just felt too long to post as one.
> 
> A few notes, I generally operate under the headcannon that once an android goes deviant, they are able to feel sensations like pain/pleasure/etc. They can feel emotion, why not pain, so I can write more angst? Also, this takes place sometime between the Hostage mission and the rest of the timeline of the game, so the deviancy 'virus' is spreading, but people haven't really gotten too aware of it. There are some other little things I'm sure I should note, but I can't remember! David Cage makes me angry so I try and do as many little fixes to his universe as I can to make it better, IMO. 
> 
> This was written almost entirely in one sitting, so if you see errors P L E A S E let me know! I ran it through Grammarly but it isn't a genius and neither am I! I don't know how much more of this I'm going to write, but suggestions are always welcome, and they don't have to be linear/plot related! I really just enjoy writing Ralph.
> 
> edit: Edited for some grammar, no new chapter yet, but one is in the making!

Surprising absolutely no one, your day at work absolutely sucked. 

You didn’t have your key-card, forcing you to use the abysmally slow manual system to check in and out, and you knew you would have to explain that later to your boss, on top of everything else. You also had had to put some energy bars and coffee on your account, because, unsurprisingly, you hadn’t bothered to ask the guy who didn’t eat food if he had anything stashed away while he was sniffling into your collar. The sweater you had gotten in the abandoned house was soft and warm, but very against dress code, so you had to change into one of the starched spare uniforms, too baggy, with a mysterious stain near the hem that you seriously didn’t want to think about. Worst of all, however, were the stares. The bruises on your face were now a lovely purple, and, due to you never making it home that morning to get some concealer because of sleeping in and then having to comfort your anxious host, they were the first thing all of your customers saw that day. Some asked, tepidly, if you were alright, and you replied with a clipped Yep! and tried to get them out the door faster. You just wished they wouldn’t try to act concerned, the emotional labor of even coming up with a response to a person you would probably never speak to outside of the store quickly multiplied to the point of bone-deep weariness. It wasn’t their job to make you feel like someone cared about you. 

You spent most of the day, as usual, just scrolling online, reading news articles and the like, as well as checking in with friends. If by, ‘checking in with friends’, you actually meant ‘begging acquaintances for a place to crash’. Most of them were out of town, but one, Kasey, someone you knew from a past job, was just preparing to leave and would be happy to have you house sitting and taking care of her cats and plants in a few days. You thanked her profusely, steadfastly turning down her offer of some cash, and went back to your web surfing.

Even as the hours seemed to never advance, driving you half-mad with boredom, the end of your shift was giving you no relief, each tick of the somehow still analog clock made your chest even tighter than it was before.

To be honest, you were chicken-shit-scared about going back to your apartment, your boyfriend—Nathan—had always been a bit of an asshole, but the money he brought in had always been enough for you to overlook all the drinking and late nights. But this was the first time he had ever threatened you, much less hit you, and you had no idea what you were going to do when you went back. Today was his day off, and although normally he would probably be out with his buddies, harassing androids or whoever would listen, whenever he got himself as horribly smashed as he was last night, he would probably still be at home, nursing a hangover. But it wasn’t like you had much of a choice, all of your shit was there, and if you didn’t get it soon, he probably would pawn it for cash. It was your house, he wasn’t even on the lease, but due to past experiences with a friend and their unfortunate separation from their own partner, you knew you had to go to the police first to get him evicted. It wasn’t like it would be hard, your bruises would be bad enough if you were lucky enough to get a soft-hearted officer, but the city-mandated cameras in the low-income housing you lived in was ironclad evidence. Now you just needed to work up the courage to actually go in there. 

First, however, you needed to just leave your job.

Nearly fifteen minutes late your replacement arrived, a plain-faced but generally nice girl who stared briefly at your bruise and then turned away to begin her shift. You wanted to stay around, delaying your departure, but a small clearing of her throat was enough to send you shuffling to the back-room. Your anxiety bubbled anew in your chest as you stripped out of the thin uniform and back into the warm sweater, nervously pulling at a lump of pilled fabric as you fiddled with the ties on your shoes. You’re just walking down the street, going into your house, and leaving again. It’ll take you ten minutes and then you’ll be back in a safe place. It was funny how quickly a dingy house could turn into a designated respite. With one last tug on your battered shoes, you took a breath, and walked out the side door, heart already hammering in your chest.

The cold hit you like a punch in the gut, followed quickly by the rain. You swear, but it’s too late to really do anything, face flushing and exposed skin stinging as you start down the street. The other people on the street looked about as happy to be out as you felt, heads slung low and hands either tucked away in pockets or clutching their umbrellas. You envied them, it felt like you had a glaring sign above your head _‘I’m stressed and worried and maybe in trouble oh god, oh god’,_ but nobody spared you a second glance. You couldn’t decide whether that was disheartening or reassuring. The walk to your apartment wasn’t particularly long, but with the cold, it seemed to never end, and you breathed a frigid sigh of relief as you turned onto the dingy side street that would lead you there. The rain abated slightly, building sheltering you, but the sound of distant footsteps only made your hackles raise.

You tried to ignore it, but even as you continued to walk it kept up, occasional quick footfalls before a pause and your already anxious state had your mind spinning. It keeps up behind you, far enough away that on any other day you probably would have dismissed it as being just another person making their way home after work, but not today. The sick heat of fear crept its way into your stomach, prickling your face and making your balled hands shake. However, you kept trying to move on, you were more than halfway home, After another quick set of footsteps you turn—but there’s nothing there. You’d barely turned all the way around before you heard it again, and you could have sworn you saw a flash of movement as you whip your head back. A sick curiosity in your stomach, you keep moving, a little faster than before, and as the street takes an abrupt turn, you dart into one of those same little alleys the footsteps had been coming from, flattening yourself up against the damp wall as best as you could. It is blissfully covered from the downpour, but still muddy and a general shithole. _Either they move on or give up, no matter what I’m not leading them to my building. _It takes a few moments, but you hear the person approaching, a brief mutter of unhappiness getting lost in the echo of their footsteps, and then they round the corner, and you want nearly scream.__

__“Ralph?” You hiss, and the startled man tenses, LED flashing red, turning to try and locate your voice. He looks disheveled, even more than he was earlier, hair ruffled like he had been running his hands through it, uniform and poncho soaked again like it had been when you first saw him last night. When he spots you, the abrupt tension bleeds from him, quickly replaced by an embarrassed hunch. “What are you doing here?” He looks sheepish, anxious at the anger in your tone, and you pause for a moment, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you watch him begin to wring his hands, before sighing. “Were you following me?” He nods, mouth twitching but nothing coming out, something that seems to be either a malfunction or just a nervous habit. “Why?”_ _

__“Ralph wasn’t going to—can’t stand being out in the daytime, too many eyes—but he remembered your bruises and how scared you had been and he couldn’t just sit around. Knowing you could get hurt.” He hangs his head, and that irritation that had been blooming in your chest subsides slightly. The sincerity hurts almost worse than the jealous bullshit you had gotten used to. “He didn’t mean to frighten you, he was just so worried, he wanted to be near in case you got in trouble.”_ _

__You huff, looking away from him, still hunched out in the rain, and beckon him to join you under the cover of the overhang. You were pissed, you weren’t going to deny it, you thought you were going to maybe get murdered or worse by some vagrant or your ex, and instead, you got the sweet android with the overprotective streak. You watch, brow furrowed, as he shuffles to your side in the alley, still looking like he isn’t sure as to whether or not he was about to get shouted at. It wasn’t really his fault, there was no secondary motive to the way he nervously checked the shadows behind you or kept patting the pocket where you presumed his knife was. He was obviously just as scared, if not more than you, just from stepping outside, but he still did it, purely out of concern. It was sweet but undeniably fucked up, and not something you entirely had the time or energy to deal with right now._ _

__“Look, Ralph,” you sigh, trying to calm down the swirl of emotions in your gut, and, mostly, fail miserably. “Even though you meant well, you really shouldn’t have followed me. You could have asked to come with, and that would have been a whole different thing but this is where we’re at now. Later we’re going to have to talk about this, but now that you’re here, you’re going to help me, not just lurk in the shadows okay?” He seems to perk up at the idea of having a job to do, and you force a smile to your cheeks that is a little more sincere than you are currently feeling. You can’t deny that you are a little peeved still, but the feeling is fading._ _

__“How can I help?” You pause your own contemplation, resolving to continue on at a later date, and look him over. He’s wiry but strong, you know he was designed for menial labor, and you had seen dozens, probably hundreds, of his same face cleaning up trash or trimming hedges during your time in this city. Even in the muddy dismal city, however, he sticks out like a sore thumb, torn uniform, dark poncho, and, of course, the scar and LED. You’re pretty sure some of Nathan’s clothes would fit him, and there were hundreds of little non-regulation shops to fix up androids on the cheap. It probably wouldn’t take too much work to bring him from looking like someone who lived in an abandoned house, to something extremely domestic. He shrinks a little under your shrewd gaze, seemingly self-conscious, and you realize you’d just been staring at him for nearly a minute, and blush slightly. _Domestic my ass, you need to get your overactive imagination under control.__ _

__“If you could just carry some things for me, it’d be a big help. And if Nathan is there, well, maybe you could offer some protection that doesn’t involve stabbing?” You try to lighten the tense mood, but it really doesn’t help, instead, he looks even more embarrassed than before. “Look, I just don’t want to get anybody hurt, or get you in trouble. If I hurt him, I could make a case for myself, self-defense or something. But if you were to even touch a hair on his head, Ralph, they’d—they’d tear you apart.” You purse your lips, the words catching in your throat a little. “And I don’t want that to happen.” He swallows and nods._ _

__“Ready to go?” The nervousness is still in his throat, but more out of the task at hand, rather than from you. You nod, and then pause, narrowing your eyes at him. He can’t just be walking around with a red LED and a wound still leaking thirium, apart from the fact that it screams deviant, you vaguely remember an ordinance being passed, banning androids with any visible damage in public It was some bull about ‘not wanting to damage the public’s sensibilities’, when, in reality, it seemed to you that they should maybe be more worried about the damage the androids had suffered rather than the disgust people might feel at the damage, but, really, the last thing you or Ralph needed was some cop getting called because there was an offensive android wandering about. You could argue about android rights some other day._ _

__“Just one thing.” You shoot him a small smile, and reach behind him, steadying yourself with one hand on his chest, pulling the hood of his poncho over his head, giving his already rumpled hair a quick ruffle to make it fall over the LED. He blinks at you in shock, but then closes his eyes, and leans into the contact, and that seemingly endless well of compassion for him opens up in your gut. He looks so vulnerable, lips parted, brow slightly furrowed, like he’s almost in pain, and you find yourself frozen, one hand on his chest, one just grazing his cheek. There’s something in his face, a mix of hurt and yearning that sends a pang directly to your heart. It’d be so easy to kiss him. You cough slightly, face flushed as you step away, giving the hood one final tug so it casts most of his face in shadow, even as his eyes flutter open._ _

__“C’mon, let's go get some of my shit back.”_ _


End file.
